Why the Sabbath?
Of all the commandments, there is perhaps none that seems, on its face, more arbitrary and demanding than the fourth commandment—the Sabbath. Indeed, it seems at first almost to interrupt the moral logic of the law.
Consider how the command begins: “Remember…” Most of the commandments around it read like straightforward moral obligations or prohibitions: “You shall…” “You shall not…” One can readily see how obedience to these would fulfill the great principles of love for God and love for our fellow man. Do not murder. Do not steal. Do not commit adultery. Do not bear false witness. Honor your parents. These seem naturally and obviously moral.
But then comes: “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy” (Exodus 20:8).
Which raises the question: why would God choose to phrase it as he did? Why should the remembrance of a particular space of time belong beside commandments against murder, adultery, theft, and falsehood?
And if you believe that the law is immutable—in the sense that even its explanations must remain fixed—the retelling of the law in Deuteronomy 5 introduces another problem. Moses furnishes a different reason for keeping the Sabbath. In Exodus 20 the appeal is to creation; in Deuteronomy 5 the explicit appeal is to Israel’s deliverance from Egypt.
So which explanation is the true reason for Sabbath keeping?
And as you read on, you come to the place where God seems not merely to demand observance of the Sabbath, but actually expects his people to enjoy it:
“Call the Sabbath a delight…honorable.” — Isaiah 58:13
Is it even possible to command enjoyment?
And as if that were not enough, Exodus 16 teaches Israel to cease gathering on that day, while the commandment itself extends the rest to everyone within the household—not merely the head of the house, but sons and daughters, servants, strangers, and even the animals (Exodus 20:10; Deuteronomy 5:14).
One wonders why this would be so important to God.
Why would he insist upon this particular space of time? Why the seventh day? Couldn’t we simply arrive at a compromise and choose another? Everything seems arbitrary on its face. Senseless.
Until you read the command again and pay attention to the reasons God himself gives for it:
“For in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea and everything that is in them, and He rested [ceased] on the seventh day. That is why the LORD blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.” — Exodus 20:11
And then:
“You shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and that the LORD your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the LORD your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day.” — Deuteronomy 5:15
Perhaps these are not two competing explanations after all.
In the first, God seems to say:
“Remember how things were in the beginning. I made the world, and when I had finished, I looked upon everything I had made and called it ‘very good’ (Genesis 1:31). There were no taskmasters then. No slavery. No thorns and sweat. No creature living under the oppression of another. When my work was complete, I ceased from my labor, blessed the seventh day, and set it apart (Genesis 2:1–3).
“You too were not made for endless toil.
“So stop.
“Let your son stop. Let your daughter stop. Let your servant stop. Let the stranger within your gates stop. Let even the animals stop.
“For one day, let creation breathe.
“And as an intelligent creature, remember what the world was when it came from my hand: good, whole, happy, and free.”
Then in Deuteronomy, God seems to continue the thought:
“And remember also what happened when human beings ceased to live that way.
“You were slaves in Egypt. You knew what it was for another man to own your time, command your labor, circumscribe your freedom, and turn your existence into service without rest.
“And I brought you out.
“Therefore, now that you are free, do not build Egypt again.
“Do not become Pharaoh to someone else.”
And this is where a small phrase in Deuteronomy becomes enormously important. God says that on the Sabbath your servants are to rest,
“that your male servant and your female servant may rest as well as you.” — Deuteronomy 5:14
In other words: The freedom I gave you must become the freedom you give to others.
You were slaves, and I gave you rest. Now you must refuse to construct a society in which your own rest depends upon the endless labor of somebody beneath you.
Suddenly the command is not so arbitrary.
Creation and Exodus are saying the same thing from two different directions.
Creation tells us what God intended.
Exodus tells us what God does when his creatures are enslaved.
In the beginning he made his creatures free; in Egypt he acted to make slaves free again.
And perhaps this is why the Sabbath is not merely something to be endured but something God expects his people to “call a delight.” He is not commanding an arbitrary emotion. He is asking them to understand what the day means.
It is difficult not to delight in a day when you understand it as a declaration that you were not made to be a slave.
And it becomes even more striking when Jesus comes.
When accused concerning the Sabbath, Jesus says:
“The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” — Mark 2:27
Notice the direction of the gift. Man was not created so that the Sabbath could have somebody to obey it. The Sabbath was made for man.
And when Jesus encounters a woman who had been bent over for eighteen years, he deliberately heals her on the Sabbath. His explanation is remarkable:
“Ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen years, be loosed from this bond on the Sabbath day?” — Luke 13:16
Why on the Sabbath?
Precisely because she was bound.
Jesus does not treat liberation as an interruption of the Sabbath. Liberation is exactly the kind of thing the Sabbath is about.
The God who rested over a free creation in Genesis is the same God who brought slaves out of Egypt, and the same God who, in Christ, looks upon a woman who has been bound for eighteen years and says, in effect, Today of all days she ought to be free.
Seen in this light, the Sabbath takes on an entirely different meaning.
It is no longer an arbitrary commandment imposed simply to test whether human beings will comply. It is a commemoration of what God has done, a revelation of the kind of person God is, and a promise of what he intends yet to do.
He made us happy and free in the beginning.
When humanity fell into bondage, he acted to liberate.
And in Christ, at immense cost to himself, he has acted again to set his creatures free from the deepest slavery of all—sin, fear, death, and the one who held the power of death (Hebrews 2:14–15; Philippians 2:6–8).
The Exodus therefore becomes larger than Egypt. It becomes a pattern.
And the Sabbath, which remembers both creation and liberation, begins to point in both directions: backward to the world as God made it, and forward to the world as he has promised to make it again—when the One seated upon the throne says, “Behold, I am making all things new” (Revelation 21:5; cf. Isaiah 65:17–25).
This also explains why the particular day matters.
The seventh day is not sacred because the number seven possesses some magical property, nor because God arbitrarily selected one twenty-four-hour period and demanded loyalty to it. It is the seventh day because the day itself points to something. It is attached to a story. God finished his work, ceased on the seventh day, blessed it, and set it apart (Genesis 2:2–3).
The day is a sign because it has a referent.
To detach the sign from the event it commemorates is to begin to empty it of the meaning God gave it.
And so what first appeared to break the moral logic of the law turns out to belong profoundly within it.
The Sabbath teaches love for God because it asks us to remember who he is: Creator, Deliverer, Giver.
And it teaches love for our neighbour because the freedom we receive from God must never terminate with us. Our children rest. Our employees rest. The foreigner rests. Even the animal under our power rests.
Love for God and love for man meet in the command.
And this God delights in our freedom and happiness. He does not seek worship from creatures who know nothing about him except that he has power and demands obedience. He gives us reasons. He gives us history. He gives us evidence of what kind of person he is, so that reverence and worship may arise from an intelligent appreciation of his character.
Perhaps this is why Paul’s words sound so remarkably at home beside the Sabbath:
“It was for freedom that Christ set us free; therefore keep standing firm and do not be subject again to a yoke of slavery.” — Galatians 5:1
The Sabbath says: Remember.
Remember what I made you to be.
Remember what slavery is.
Remember who brought you out.
Remember what I am like.
And remember that I am not finished yet.
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